African Dragon
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African Dragon
The Team Book Three
David M. Salkin
Also By David M. Salkin
Hard Carbon
Deep Black Sea
Crescent Fire
Necessary Extremes
The MOP
Forever Hunger
Deep Down
A POST HILL PRESS BOOK
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-859-0
AFRICAN DRAGON
The Team Book Three
© 2015 by David M. Salkin
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by David Walker
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.
Post Hill Press
275 Madison Avenue, 14th Floor
New York, NY 10016
http://posthillpress.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Team series has been fun to write. Obviously, these are fictional tales, but I have tried to create stories that are feasible in today’s world. The original concept for the team was based on a real operation run in Vietnam, and I don’t lose sight of the fact that brave men and women are out fighting for the United States of America every day.
Several warriors have been extremely helpful in sharing their own stories, advising on technical issues, and offering support in various ways. I’d like to thank LCpl Connor O’Brien Hamill, USMC, Col. William L. Peace and Col. Jeff Cantor. It’s not a coincidence you see names like these in the story.
Any technical mistakes are mine, either by accident, or by artistic license. While my warrior friends have explained equipment and technical things in great detail, I sometimes worry that readers may get bogged down in too much technical detail, so I tend to “make things up that are easier to understand.” If you’re a War Fighter, active or retired, you have my utmost respect and thanks for your service. Some of my Wounded Warrior friends have made huge personal sacrifices for this country. Rory, that includes you. Semper Fi, brother~
As a side note, the African Rift lakes in the story are, in fact, the source for the African cichlids you see in the fish-keeping hobby. I have plenty of these smart, colorful creatures swimming around my own fish tanks. Many of these fish only exist in the tanks of fish-keepers, as the perch introduced to the lakes for food have eaten some of these beauties out of existence.
For my family, my friends, and you…
the readers who keep me writing.
“The secret of Happiness is Freedom, and the secret of Freedom, Courage.”
- Thucydides (460 BC - 395 BC)
The TEAM
Coach: Chris Mackey, CIA
US NAVY SEALs:
Chris Cascaes, Chief Petty Officer, SEAL team leader
Al Carlosgio – “Moose”
Vinny “Ripper” Colgan
Ray Jensen
Pete McCoy
Jon Cohen
Ryan O’Conner
Marine Recondos:
Eric Hodges
Earl Jones
Raul Santos
CIA:
Ernesto Perez, “Ernie P.”
Joe Smith, “Smitty”
Cory Stewart
Army Rangers:
Lance Woods
Jake Koches
Table of Contents
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About the Author
1.
Senior Chief Petty Officer Chris Cascaes drove the twelve miles to the VA Hospital in silence. He didn’t even have the radio on, which was very unusual. ‘Car time’ usually meant earsplitting Led Zeppelin or some other classic rock. Instead, he drove in the peaceful hush, holding hands with Julia Ortiz, just enjoying her company. Julia was a little nervous. CIA operative or not, meeting the man that her new boyfriend called “Pop” was a little unnerving.
Pop was eighty-seven years old, and starting to fall apart. His mind was still sharp, but his body had betrayed him. The injuries sustained on Iwo Jima had left him with enough problems over the years—a perforated eardrum, shrapnel in his arms and chest that would occasionally surface through his skin without warning, and skin rashes he had picked up in the jungles somewhere in the South Pacific that no doctor could quite cure. None of that had ever slowed him down, though. He was a marine and tough as hell. That was, until the cancer had started to eat him alive.
Chris’s own degenerate father, Chris Sr., never discussed his time in Korea. Whatever hell he’d gone through had left him a mean alcoholic that physically abused his wife and son. Chris Jr. avoided being home whenever possible, and had been somewhat adopted by his neighbor “The Major,” Adam Stone. Adam would tell Chris Jr. stories about fighting in the Pacific and Korea for hours and hours. His stories usually ended the same way—he would tell a story and then get that funny look in his eye and say, “Ya’ know, sometimes I wonder if I was really there or I just watched a John Wayne movie.” It was only a half-joke. To Major Stone, Korea and the Pacific were a lifetime ago. Some of the memories were still painful even to this day, but so many details had started to fade. He would occasionally forget a name, and that always broke his heart, as if he had betrayed the man by not remembering every detail.
Now, in the haze of morphine, some of the memories were clearer than ever, and it was the present moment instead of the past that was confusing. Chris had talked a lot to Julia about Pop Stone—much more, in fact, than his own parents. It was Pop Stone that had helped him make his decision to join the Navy when Chris turned eighteen, basically an orphan. His mother had died in a car accident, and Chris hadn’t seen his father since the day he defended himself and his mother against one of his drunken assaults. With nothing holding him at home, the navy was Chris’s gateway to seeing the world.
Chris had set his goal of becoming a navy SEAL before he ever signed on the dotted line. It took longer than he wanted to make his way to BUDs training, but he excelled and was immediately noticed for his leadership abilities. He made it through the first
time, something not every SEAL manages to do, and loved the challenges, both mental and physical. Now, nineteen years later, Chris was a SEAL team leader and senior chief petty officer (who had been awarded the Navy Cross, Defense Distinguished Service Medal, two purple hearts and a chest full of other campaign ribbons) and was on loan for “special assignment” to the CIA.
It had been several months since Chris had worn his uniform. He had just returned from the rain forests of South America where he’d been with a group of missionaries that weren’t missionaries. Prior to that, he’d been doing special operations with a “baseball team” that wasn’t a baseball team. His only “uniform” had been that of a second baseman on the US Navy All-Star Exhibition Team. Today, however, he was taking his girlfriend Julia to meet Pop, and for this, he wanted his dress uniform. It was the first time Julia had seen him in his dress uniform, and she was more than suitably impressed. (In fact, she had undressed him before allowing him to redress himself). As they walked into the VA hospital off Irving Street in Washington DC, Julia squeezed his hand and tried to relax. Chris had told her that she was the first woman he had ever bothered to introduce to Pop Stone, and she was not only honored but slightly terrified. What if he didn’t like her?
They went through security and walked to the elevators. The place was somewhat sterile-looking, but extremely clean and fairly busy. They stood in the elevator, still holding hands and looking like what they were, a couple of people who obviously loved each other. They walked down the hall until Chris stopped near Pop’s room.
“Listen, Julia, when I spoke to Pop last week, he sounded pretty lousy. I haven’t seen him in a few months and I don’t know what to expect, so prepare yourself for someone that might look a little rough.” He kissed her cheek and led her to Pop’s room. They walked in and saw Major Stone, now a very frail-looking old man in his bed with an oxygen line under his nose. He had an IV attached to his arm. It dripped morphine when he pressed a button if he felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like feeling so loopy, and tried his best not to use the extra dose that he could summon manually. When he saw Chris walk in with his beautiful girlfriend, Pop smiled ear to ear.
Pop waved them in. Chris smiled, and went to the old man to give him a hug. He almost cried when he felt how skinny the tough old marine’s arms and shoulders were.
“Hey pop,” he managed to say without losing it.
The old man pulled the oxygen tube away from his nose and let it lay around his neck. His voice, hoarse from his throat being so dry from the constant oxygen, was weak and didn’t sound like the strong marine that Chris remembered growing up. Pop held Chris’s hand and looked at him.
“You’re one squared away sailor,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is that the Navy Cross I’m looking at on your chest? Son of a bitch,” he said with admiration, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
“I bought it at the PX, Pop—to impress the young lady,” said Chris.
“And who is this beautiful girl you’ve brought with you?” asked Pop, holding his hands up towards her.
Julia walked over and took his hands and smiled. Chris introduced her as she held his hands and Julia bent down and kissed his cheek “hello.”
“Chris has told me so much about you, Major Stone. It’s an honor to meet you finally,” she said.
“Pop—you call me Pop, like Chris. If he brought you to see me, you must be family. Did he tell you you’re the first girl he’s ever introduced to me?”
“Yes,” she said with her beautiful smile still beaming.
“I was starting to think the boy was, well, you know—don’t ask don’t tell…” He smiled weakly.
She patted his hand and whispered, “Don’t you worry about him, Pop. He definitely likes girls.”
The old man laughed, which brought a small coughing fit. Chris poured him some water off the nightstand and helped him drink a little, then made him put the oxygen back under his nose against minor protest.
When Pop’s coughing had subsided and he was relaxed again, Chris asked, “How are you holding up?”
Pop shrugged it off. “I’m ready to meet the Supreme Commandant whenever he calls me up. My wife and most of my friends are already up there waiting, anyway.”
After a pause, he said, “I tell you something though, Chris. This morphine is amazing stuff. Some days I don’t know if I’m dreaming or awake. I think I’ve talked to half the guys in my old outfits the last few weeks. It’s been kind of nice, actually. Even got to see that one kid Wally something-or-other. Can’t remember his last name. But we were in Iwo Jima together. He was a great guy. He was visiting last night—I swear to God, Chris, he was right here in the room. He made me laugh until I coughed my head off. Crazy stuff, this morphine.”
Chris could see that Pop was getting tired fast. “Pop, I might be heading out again soon,” he said. “Might be gone for a while again.”
“Oh yeah? I see what’s going on in the world. The news is on the TV most of the day. Some world you inherited, huh?” He coughed again a few times, and Chris let him continue. “I always knew you’d be a SEAL. I told you a military career would be good for you. You were squared away even when you were ten, Chris.”
Chris smiled and said,” Thanks, Pop.”
“So can I ask where you and your SEALs are headed? You know your secret will be buried with me—maybe by next week,” he said, trying to smile.
“Well, Pop, you know they never tell us anything. But I do have a little secret for you.”
Julia shot him a look; afraid he was going to say something about being on loan to the CIA or about the baseball team.
Pop grunted, as if to say “go on and tell me.”
“Pop, you see this girl over here? She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to marry me.”
Pop smiled broadly and squeezed each of their hands, as he began coughing again. Julia’s mouth fell open and she stared at Chris. She looked back at Pop. “Well, he wasn’t kidding about the ‘me not knowing it yet’ part!” Chris put his arm around her and squeezed her close, still facing the old major.
“She’s a keeper,” Pop said hoarsely. “You two will be great together. You a squid, too?” he asked Julia.
It took her a second to understand “squid” meant navy personnel.
“Um, no. Maybe I’ll just stay home and have five or six kids,” she said with a nudge to Chris.
Pop grimaced and forced a smile. He nonchalantly reached over and pressed the button that released the morphine into his arm, and after a few seconds, his face relaxed.
“Chris,” he whispered, as he motioned him closer. Cascaes leaned over, putting his ear closer to Pop’s mouth. “You grew up to be a good man. You’re a SEAL. The best of the navy. I was always so proud of you, kid. You’re the son I never had, you know that, right?”
Chris fought back the tears and hugged the frail old marine.
“I love you, Pop,” he managed to get out.
“I love you, too, kid.”
He held the old man for a few minutes until the morphine kicked in harder and the Major started to fall asleep. He was holding him, with Julia rubbing his back when a doctor walked in and cleared his throat to announce his presence.
“Sorry to intrude, how’s the patient?” asked the doctor, an older man in a white coat.
“I was just going to ask you,” said Chris.
The doctor looked at Chris’s chest full of medals. The Navy Cross wasn’t lost on the doc. “Are you family?” he asked.
“Yes,” Cascaes said, without explaining further.
“Well, you know he didn’t even come to see us until he was very sick. Typical jarhead—too stubborn to see a doctor. At his age, we wouldn’t have recommended anything other than pain management, anyway. He’s been holding up pretty well, but the last two weeks he’s been here full time, and relying on the morphine. H
e’s been in and out with it. Strong stuff. But honestly, I think it’s been good for him. I think he’s made his peace.”
Chris wiped his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “Yeah, he was telling us about his visits with some of his old friends.”
The doctor smiled. “Yeah, he’s an entertaining guy. I’m sure you know that without me telling you.”
Chris smiled. “Yeah, I grew up on his stories. Funniest son of a bitch I ever knew. Anyway, how much time you think he has?”
The doc shook his head. “Hard to say, he’s a tough old bugger. But the cancer had spread throughout his body and all of his organs. I’m not sure what’s keeping him going now.”
“He wanted to see me,” said Chris, matter-of-factly. “I needed to see him, too.”
The doctor could see him getting upset and shook hands with him and Julia. “Stay as long as you like” he said politely, and turned to leave.
Chris pushed a card into the doctor’s hand. “Anything happens, you call me, okay?”
The doctor agreed, and left them alone.
Chris hugged the old man, who was fast asleep. “Thanks, Pop. For everything. I love you, major. I love you.”
The tears flowed freely down Chris’s face. Julia was crying too, and didn’t even know the old man, but felt Chris’s sense of loss. She rubbed his back while he sobbed on the Major. Finally, Chris stood up straight, stood at attention, gave the Major a stiff salute.
“Goodbye, sir.”
The Major may have heard him somehow in his sleep, a little smile crossing his thin lips as the senior chief snapped his salute so crisply the air seemed to pop.
Chris and Julia walked out, arm in arm, back to their car. She leaned her head against his arm as they walked. Neither spoke, but they comforted each other just by being there.
“Thanks for coming with me,” said Chris quietly. “I just wanted to make sure he knew I wasn’t gay.” He was trying to break the mood as best he could.
“Ah, I see. So you just used me to cover your sexual orientation? So much for having half a dozen kids and learning to bake.”